


Feels Like the First Time

by blithelybonny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of the infamous Slytherin Salons, Draco Malfoy finally gets the chance to live up to the sexual reputation he’s given himself over the years - too bad he can’t, for the life of him, figure out who he shared the experience with, thanks to the blistering hangover the following morning. Can he recall any of the fuzzy details, or is he doomed to forget his first time forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to MK for the beta, you’re the tops - all mistakes remain my own. Written for the 2013 Deflower Draco fest on LJ.
> 
> The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic/Warner Brothers. I am not making any profit off this work of fanfiction.

FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME

“Rise and shine, gentlemen, we’re leaving for Hogsmeade in one hour. If you’re not with the group, you’ll be left behind.”

The Head Boy’s already-nasal tone seemed particularly shrill that morning, as Draco managed to rouse himself from that most special of sleeps: the post drunken, desperately needing five more minutes, hangover sleep. Groggily, he mashed his fists into his eyes, trying to make himself see clearly. With a low groan, as he noticed the absolutely blinding headache that was practically pulsating behind his eyelids, he flipped over in bed and buried himself in his pillow.

Frankly, it did not seem worth it to attempt a trip into Hogsmeade - suffering through Pansy’s idiotic chatter, being dragged to all the same boring spots just to see and be seen. It was always the same crowd, and that crowd was rapidly becoming a huge bore to him. The closer they got to the end of school, the less Draco wanted to be distracted by trivial things. The N.E.W.Ts were barely one month away, and he didn’t want to sacrifice any more time than he had already. The Salon last night was one thing, but an entire day in Hogsmeade was quite another.

The Salon -- _what the bloody hell happened last night?_ he thought, as he struggled to make himself comfortable without nauseating himself. His stomach lurched uncomfortably, and he took a deep, ill-timed breath, inhaling his pillow and nearly choking on it.

“Alright, Malfoy?” came a muffled voice from across the dormitory.

“Stuff it, Theo,” was the elegant reply, followed by a series of coughs that Draco was almost certain was going to turn into the entire contents of his stomach making an appearance on the floor next to his bed. Draco managed, just barely, to keep control, breathing deeply and settling himself. After a moment of silence, he decided that this morning was quite possibly the most hungover he had ever been in his entire life. He also felt oddly sore in a way he could not explain. “What the bloody hell happened last night?” he then added, echoing his thoughts aloud, though more to himself than anyone else.

“What was that?”

“I said, what the bloody hell happened last--”

“Can’t hear you, mate!”

With a frustrated growl upon the realization that he clearly wasn’t about to get any sleep or peace and quiet, Draco threw back the covers. He was quite intent upon giving Theodore Nott a very loud - okay, probably more like very _quiet_ \- piece of his mind. Since the prat rarely attended the Salons, he never really had the same sense of disoriented depression the next morning like the rest of them. It was high time that he understood how painful even the slightest noise could be. And that was when Draco saw them: a pair of bright pink knickers, that most assuredly did not belong to him, bunched up in the sweaty, sticky sheets.

It was not, unfortunately, an uncommon occurrence to find his sheets in such a state of disarray in the morning. It would have been just another normal morning for the perpetually horny, yet secretly virgin Slytherin, and he would have just cleaned up the mess like always and pretended that it hadn’t happened - until it inevitably happened again the very next night. It was the lot to which he had accustomed himself, and therefore, his initial assumption would have been that his sheets were sweaty and sticky because of all the drinking and the _dreams_. But the underwear was completely new. The underwear defied logic, unless--

“Malfoy, get your great buggering arse up!”

The sound of Blaise Zabini’s voice thundering across the room was enough to distract Draco briefly from his thoughts - if only because he didn’t quite know what to think about what he had found in his bed. His head was throbbing painfully, and what he really needed was some sort of restorative draught to clear his mind before attempting to figure out just exactly what events had transpired last night to make something happen that entirely defied logic. Maybe the trip into Hogsmeade really would be in order, if he could manage to rouse himself in the allotted timeframe.

“Quit ignoring me,” said Blaise then, as he poked his head into the drawn curtains that surrounded Draco’s bed. “We should really get going if we want to -- oh ho! What have you got there, loverboy?”

Had he been quicker off the draw, he might have been able to hide them, but his reflexes were yet another set of casualties from the previous night’s binge. Instead, Draco held the knickers in his hands, as a pair of red spots appeared high on his cheeks from embarrassment. Blaise and the others had no idea that Draco was all talk regarding his sexual experiences, and he had worked very hard to ensure that fact, so it was vitally important that he tread lightly. Yet, how could he possibly explain? “I just found them. Some bird from last night, you know how it is,” he answered, in as nonchalant a tone as he could muster. It was quite insincere, and he only hoped that Blaise would just buy it and move along. He never had that kind of luck, though, so he really wasn’t surprised that Blaise hung around.

“Go on then, give us all the details!” Blaise said, helping himself to a spot on Draco’s bed.

“I’m sure you had a wild night of your own, you stupid prat, now get the bloody hell off my bed!” Draco hissed, snatching the knickers back. He was well aware of how childish and petulant he sounded, but he certainly didn’t want to be caught right now - his head swam and he couldn’t remember anything about the night before.

“That bad?” said Blaise, cheerily, as he complied with the demand. “I’m glad I got out last night before everything started to get hazy.”

“Hazy?”

“ _Hazy_ ,” he repeated slyly, as he got up from the bed, with a wink. “Let’s just say that Miss Mandy Brocklehurst didn’t need any of Pansy’s special brew to join the ranks of Satisfied last night.”

“Pansy’s what?” Draco asked, confused.

“You remember, her little Potions project gone awry?” Blaise laughed, in a way that Draco found particularly grating. “Who was it anyhow?”

“None of your damn business,” Draco replied, with a sneer. “Now get the bloody hell out of here and leave me alone. My head is killing.” He hadn’t meant to let that last slip out, but somehow it actually seemed to get through to Blaise.

“Poor ickle Malfoy,” Blaise clucked, shaking his head. “Maybe the next one will be better.” With that, the man slipped back out between the curtains that surrounded Draco’s bed, leaving Draco once again alone with his thoughts.

“Hazy?” he muttered to himself, as he stared at the pink knickers in his hands, wondering who they could possibly belong to and what they really meant. One of his dreams last night had been particularly vivid, although he could not recall every detail. He laid back in bed again, closed his eyes, and tried to remember what had happened. All he needed was one little clue - anything to help him figure out what had happened last night and why he felt so different this morning.

_His hands skim along the bare skin of her sides, tracing bones and making their way up to her breasts. Her nipples are pert and pink, and he thumbs them, causing her to shiver and sigh. He relishes the sounds. They are so close to one another - she has undone his trousers, pulled him from his pants, and strokes him now, firmly and with skill. He feels the heat of her sex against him, and he wants her more than he has ever wanted anyone in his entire life._

_“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispers, urging him inside her. Any sense of hesitancy or nerves he might have been feeling disappears, and he guides himself in with a careful, gentle thrust upward. She does the rest, settling downward until he is deep within her, moaning softly. Her head tips back and her long hair fans out; he grips her hips and begins to thrust, deeper, harder, and she cries out in pleasure. He cannot last - she feels exquisite around him, hot and tight. He doesn’t know what exactly it is supposed to feel like, but if this is right, it is so very, very right._

_“I’m going to … I … “ He tries to speak, but he cannot find the words. She wriggles her hips against him, and it’s all he needs. He comes hard, thrusting up into her willing body, with a wordless cry of pleasure. He doesn’t know if she follows him, as stars explode behind his eyelids. He feels utterly spent, like jelly, as she lays down next to him, curling up to him, with her long hair splaying across his chest. He runs his fingers through the silken strands._

Draco’s face burned with the heat of the memory/dream and the embarrassment he suddenly felt. It had been so vivid and so real that it couldn’t possibly have been a dream, and yet he’d had dreams like that before, with any number of beautiful women. But how did he explain the knickers?

Perhaps there was only one explanation - Draco Malfoy was, as of some as yet unknown hour last night, finally, no longer a virgin.

\--- --- ---

“And here’s where things start to get a little … lost,” said Tracey Davis. The brunette witch was seated next to Theodore Nott, the latter’s arm protectively around her shoulder. “Did we start playing Spin the Bottle after that fifth shot, or did I imagine it?”

“I remember the Spin the Bottle game. Or parts of it anyway,” Daphne Greengrass replied, before slumping over the table with a thud. “It was bloody awful.”

“Only ‘cause you locked lips with that Gryffindor girl - what’s her name? Patil?” said Blaise, with a charming grin that made Draco sick with its cheeriness. “Oh, bugger the lot of you. You all looked like you were having a fantastic time to me.”

“This is all my fault,” Pansy wailed suddenly. “I thought it would be so funny to put my potion in our punchbowl, but it entirely ruined the Salon!”

“I wouldn’t say _ruined_ exactly,” Draco spoke up, “just complicated a little.” He had been deep in thought all morning, barely saying anything to anyone, as he tried to wrack his hangover-fuzzy brain for clues to the mystery woman’s identity. It was of the utmost importance that he find out - if only because she was his official _first_. And a man deserved to remember his first, even if he was reconstructing it from half-forgotten dreams. He then thought he might as well just ask, careful though not to reveal too many details about why he needed the information so desperately. “Does anyone by chance know with whom I left the party last night?”

“Pink knickers?” said Blaise, teasingly.

Draco couldn’t help but flush, now that he was no longer in the privacy of his own dorm. Two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks, and the table let out a rather unnecessarily dramatic “ooh” of intrigue.

“Malfoy can’t remember who he shagged last night,” Blaise continued, leaning in. “Poor thing. Somewhere out there is a pretty little miss wandering around in total satisfaction, utterly unaware that she might as well have been anyone else for all he cares.” His tone was playful, but it grated on Draco. He did care - he cared a great deal in fact, but not for the reason that Blaise might have thought.

“He’s not really the only one in that boat, clearly,” said Theo, a sulky note in his voice that Draco knew was from Tracey’s inability to be totally faithful. She always blamed it on the alcohol, but Draco had a sneaking suspicion that the girl just didn’t like Theo all that much.

“We’ve all got bits and pieces, but no whole,” said Pansy, before draping herself over the table with a pathetic-sounding moan.

Draco rolled his eyes, but a bout of nausea overtook him. He quickly resolved to keep his impatience with her to a bare minimum - Pansy’s dramatics were nothing new, of course, but suddenly the girl took on a new significance for him. He might have slept with her last night, and it wouldn’t do for his first time to have been with someone he utterly could not stand.

“She’s right, you know,” Theo chimed in, ever the know-it-all. “Amongst the lot of us, we could probably manage to find the whole of the night.”

Glancing at each other skeptically, the Slytherins considered it. Finally, Draco decided that he had to step up as their leader. If he was ever going to get to the bottom of his mystery first time, he was going to need their help. It would just take a bit of Slytherin cunning to keep him from revealing anything that might ruin his reputation. “It’s as simple as this,” he began, hoping he didn’t sound as dramatic as he thought, “we just start from the beginning, and we’ll fill in the blanks.”

_Pansy had truly outdone herself this time - the Slytherin Common Room had never looked more elegant, with green and silver silks hanging from the walls and ceiling, a crackling fire that gave the air a delicious heaviness, and a sumptuous spread that couldn’t possibly have come from the Hogwarts kitchen. The Salon that night would clearly be the greatest that they had ever hosted. Tonight, of course, would be the first time that invitations had been extended beyond Slytherin House, and Pansy wanted to make the absolute best impression possible on the guests from the other three Houses, if only to show the innate superiority of Salazar’s chosen students._

_The event always began at 9 o’clock sharp, and the Slytherins assigned themselves to places around the room, artfully draping on plush couches and against walls, as if they, too, were part of the decor. The students from other Houses began to arrive, beginning with several Ravenclaws for whom promptness was likely an unshakably ingrained trait. A small group of Gryffindors followed not long after, and a few Hufflepuffs brought up the rear. All seemed slightly uncertain of where to begin until instinct reminded them that it was a party and therefore a good time should be had._

_The Common Room was pleasantly full, but not crowded. Daphne held court before the fire, charming those nearest her with a surprisingly accurate impression of the Headmistress talking to one of her four cats. Blaise, half in shadow in the corner, flirted with Mandy Brocklehurst, letting his fingers trail through her long black hair--_

“You’re certain you had it off with Brocklehurst last night?” Draco interrupted, as casually as he could. He latched onto the mention of long hair, nearly flushing at the memory from his dream. It couldn’t hurt to double check, even as the thought of Blaise’s sloppy seconds made his stomach turn.

“Quite positive,” Blaise drawled, the corner of his lips perking up in a decidedly wicked smirk. “It wasn’t long after that moment we went upstairs and never left.” The sleazy way he said it made something in Draco clench uncomfortably. Blaise’s cavalier attitude towards sex had never bothered him before, but something was different now that he’d apparently experienced it for himself. It shouldn’t have been taken so lightly.

“Fine, fine, so Blaise and the Brocklehurst girl are accounted for,” said Theo, bringing them back around. “Keep going.”

_A spirit of interhouse unity rose up in the room, as the younger students were unceremoniously ushered out and the bottles of alcohol were produced from secret robe pockets. Pansy whisked over to the table where all the food and drink was spread out and tipped the contents of a small vial into the punchbowl, a mischievous grin coming to her lips._

_Seamus Finnigan commandeered the attention of the room when he tripped over the fuzzy area rug and ran headlong into the wall. Dizzily, he sat down holding his head in his hands, as a pair of witches rushed over to attend to him. The silence that had fallen over the room lifted easily as conversations restarted. Alcohol always loosened the lips of even the shiest._

_Blaise slunk quietly up the stairs with Mandy at his side, and Tracey poured a round of shots for Dean Thomas, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, and herself, eyes bright with merriment. Pansy flitted from circle to circle, enjoying the fruits of her labor and drinking from her own personal bottle of merlot. Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom chatted animatedly on the couch, as Ernie Macmillan stood over them, trying his best to ingratiate himself into the conversation._

_Yet conversation lagged in the small circle of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws that Draco inexplicably found himself in, until Daphne arrived to his rescue, charming them all into riotous laughter with one of her baudier jokes. He slipped quietly away, tugging gently at his tie to loosen it. The room began to feel cloying, so he went over and got himself some punch. A Hufflepuff whose name he couldn’t recall appeared at his side, and he graciously poured her a glass. “Cheers, Malfoy,” she said shyly, holding it up to clink against his own--_

“Hang on. Do we even know who all was at the party?” Draco interrupted himself, as he tried to keep the thought that he might have given it up to a Hufflepuff from overwhelming him.

“Isn’t that what we’re trying to figure out right now?” Blaise asked, looking askance at him in a way that unnerved Draco. Blaise couldn’t possibly suspect - he wasn’t nearly clever enough for that, was he?

“Right, right, I just don’t remember which Hufflepuff I was talking to,” he said, as nonchalantly as possible. His head pounded unforgivingly, and not for the first time did he wish that they had been able to scrape together the ingredients for a potion to alleviate their collective hangover.

“It had to have been Abbott,” said Daphne, and Draco’s heart leaped into his throat. “She was the only other one still there besides Susan, I think.” She paused. “Actually, I think she’s the only other Hufflepuff girl in our year who came back this year.”

Draco’s disdain must have showed on his face because the rest of table looked queerly at him. “What?” he asked, defensively.

“I happen to like Hannah,” Daphne continued, with a soft smile. “For a Muggle-born, of course. She’s always got the best mad mum stories. Better than mine even! She told me once about how her mum answered the door for the delivery-man in her altogether--”

“--can we please move on? Some of us just want to go out and enjoy Hogsmeade before we have to go back and slave over our N.E.W.T.s again,” Blaise interrupted, sounding utterly bored.

Draco rolled his eyes, even if he did secretly agree with the sentiment. “Fine, so I was chatting with,” he sighed, “Hannah Abbott...”

_A loud burst of laughter came from where Daphne finished sharing a story about her mother’s misadventures with a Muggle television. She tossed an arm carelessly around Parvati Patil’s neck and told her what beautiful eyes she had. Tracey beckoned the group from her corner near the comfortable chairs, where she had set up an empty bottle of butterbeer. Her eyes practically glittered with excitement, as she began to arrange the circle alternating boys and girls._

_It was time to play Spin the Bottle._

_The group was smaller than it had been only moments previously. The shyer students must have slipped out when attention was on Tracey._

“Who left?” Draco interrupted again. Since he could now distinctly remember playing Spin the Bottle with the group, a smaller pool of potentials would definitely help narrow down his investigation. Anyone who had left most likely would not have come back.

The urgency in his tone must have raised Blaise and Theo’s suspicions because the pair exchanged a glance over the girls’ heads. “Malfoy, we’re getting there,” Blaise then said evenly, his eyes looking with such intensity that Draco nearly shivered.

“Right, right, sorry,” he said, gesturing for someone to continue the story.

“Hang on, I’ve got a few owls to send. Malfoy, come with me,” said Blaise, in a tone that suggested Draco would be wise to agree.

Never one to enjoy being the follower, however, Draco merely raised an eyebrow at his friend, affecting calm as best as he was able. “I want to hear the rest of the story.”

Blaise just smirked. “Come along,” he said, getting up, “I think you could do with some fresh air instead. Clear your head a little.”

Now Blaise’s tone seemed to suggest that if Draco didn’t get up and come along, everyone would know exactly what Draco was inwardly panicking about. It might have been paranoia, but Draco decided that he couldn’t afford to take the chance. “Alright, fine, I’m with you,” he replied evenly.

With a little maneuvering, the pair got up from the table and left the others to continue piecing together the rest of the night on their own.

\--- --- ---

“It’s too bright out here,” Draco complained, as he and Blaise made their way down Hogsmeade high street, dodging enthusiastic younger students and other passersby. He figured that if he acted as much like himself as he could, perhaps Blaise wouldn’t cotton on to the fact that he was a nervous wreck.

“I didn’t force all that firewhiskey down your throat last night,” Blaise replied, clearly enjoying himself. “That was all you... and maybe a little bit Pansy.”

“Why the hell did you drag me out here?” he then asked, eager to get to the point so he could go back inside and see if they had made any headway into his mystery.

Blaise smiled an unsettling smile. “Because I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on finally getting shagged by a real live girl.”

What little color Draco had drained from his face in horror. Admittedly, he had been suspicious of Blaise, but he usually attributed it to paranoia. To hear that Blaise actually knew about his lack of romantic conquests was almost too much to take. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally said, sounding every bit as guilty and embarrassed as he felt.

“Relax, I haven’t told anyone about all your hilarious lies. I was waiting to see when I might need something from you, but now you’ve gone and spoiled my little plot,” Blaise teased.

Draco wanted to argue that Blaise was wrong and had no idea what he got up to sexually, but he also knew when to give up and admit defeat. A stubborn will to fight when his reputation was at stake had formerly been one of his most obvious personality traits, but being a junior Death Eater and being saved by Harry Potter more times than he could count had served to squash it right out of him. It was a shame, as he definitely needed it right about now. Instead, he sighed gently. “How did you know?” he asked quietly, glancing around to see if anyone had followed or was listening to their conversation.

Never one to take pity, Blaise just laughed. “Please, it was completely obvious to anyone with half a brain - which I suppose is why most of our idiot House had no idea. Also …” he paused, laughing meanly, “most of those girls you supposedly shagged told me themselves that you didn’t.”

Draco grimaced. He knew exactly how Blaise had gotten the opportunity for one-on-one time with his faux-conquests, and it filled him with equal parts jealousy and shame. “Fine, so you know,” he admitted, trying to pretend it didn’t bother him. “And you also know that it doesn’t matter anymore because I shagged someone last night.”

“But you have absolutely no idea who it was, now do you?”

Defeated, Draco’s shoulders sagged, and he looked down at the ground as they continued walking. “No idea at all. It’s why I wanted to stay and see if we couldn’t piece together the night better. Maybe I could have figured out who she was.”

Blaise grinned. “And that’s where I come in.”

“What?” Draco looked up suddenly, unnerved, but also intrigued. “You know who it was?”

“Not yet, but I’m willing to help you investigate … for a price, of course.”

Exasperated, but trying his best not to show it, Draco huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, of course, naturally,” he mimicked, with a snotty tone. “What do you want?”

Blaise looked positively wicked, and Draco instantly regretted following him out in the first place. Whatever Blaise wanted, it wasn’t going to be cheap. “I’ll let you know my terms after I’ve given you your princess,” he then said, surprising Draco.

“How do you even know I’ll give it to you once I’ve gotten what I want?” Draco asked warily. Blaise was nothing if not calculating, and it wouldn’t be the first time that he had one-upped Draco’s Slytherin gamesmanship - not that Draco would ever admit aloud to being less than one of his peers in some way.

Laughing, Blaise slung an arm around Draco’s shoulders, making the latter flinch from the unexpected weight. “Because I’ll just have to tell everyone some of the other secrets that you’ve been laboring under the delusion I don’t know about.”

Hackles raised, Draco stiffened in Blaise’s seemingly friendly embrace. “You’re bluffing,” he ventured, already knowing it would be a cold day in hell before Blaise would attempt to bluff him.

“Am I?” his supposed best friend replied, raising an eyebrow speculatively.

 _Of course you aren’t,_ he thought unhappily. “Alright, so how do we find her then? Because I have been wracking my brain, and the only thing I can really remember is that she has long hair...” Draco quickly trailed off, as an embarrassed flush crept up his chest and into his cheeks. Reminding himself that she had long hair succeeded in reminding him about the dream-that-wasn’t, and suddenly he found himself even more desperate than before to discover her identity.

“Simple,” said Blaise, with a glint in his eyes that Draco simply did not like, “we go round and ask.”

A surge of anger flooded Draco, and he shoved out at Blaise. “You stupid fuck, I hate you!” Aware that many eyes were now watching them from the spectacle he’d just made, he continued under his breath, practically hissing with fury. “If I’d wanted to humiliate myself, I would have bloody well started by asking everyone at the party.”

“You misunderstand,” Blaise replied, clearly enjoying himself. “We’re not going to outright ask them if you shagged them. We’re going to _investigate_.”

“And just how do you propose we _investigate_?” Draco asked, mimicking Blaise’s tone at the last. “I refuse to be made a fool of in front of anyone.”

“Other than me, you mean,” Blaise retorted, with a smirk.

“Yes, other than you,” Draco ground out, trying his best to keep from shouting again.

“Come on now, Malfoy, haven’t you ever played detective before? It’s loads of fun,” Blaise replied, practically vibrating with amusement.

Draco felt sick. “I really, really hate you,” he replied, wearily.

Blaise laughed and slung his arm back around Draco’s neck. “Come on, I know just where to start - and trust me, those idiots have no idea who you were with last night, so it wasn’t going to do you any good anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco tried to shake Blaise off, but only succeeding in tripping over his own feet. “Fine, whatever, lead the way, _detective_ ,” he grumbled. Together, they set off down the high street, and Draco felt like he was marching to his complete and utter doom.

\--- --- ---

“So, Malfoy, did you have a good time last night?” asked a Patil sister.

Draco’s eyes were on Blaise, as the latter slid his fingers through Mandy Brocklehurst’s long dark hair and flirted mercilessly. The girl seemed to be eating out of the palm of his hand, which made Draco question just exactly how easy it was to get into Ravenclaw these days, if girls like Brocklehurst could be so easily swayed. Still, if it meant getting an answer to his very serious problem, he’d be sure to hold his tongue.

“Malfoy?” she prodded.

“Sorry, what?”

The Ravenclaw girl smirked at him. “I said, ‘did you have a good time last night?’”

Draco wondered if this Patil was the one that snogged Daphne at the Salon. Her ability to talk to him without blushing seemed to indicate ‘no’, especially when compared to her twin, who sat beside her avoiding his eyes. Unless, of course, she couldn’t look at him because they had--

“I had a very nice time,” he then said, attempting to lay the charm on like Blaise did, “especially towards the end of the night.” The blushing Patil squeaked, and Draco felt alarm rush through him. “Are you alright?” He suddenly wished that he wasn’t the type to panic under pressure. Composure was key.

The first Patil glanced side-long at her sister, before turning back to him with a sly smile. “Oh, she’s fine,” the girl replied. “Parvati just had a rather interesting night, that’s all.”

Draco’s stomach turned over on itself. If he shagged Parvati Patil last night, then not only was he going to be very, very angry with himself for giving it up to a Gryffindor, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Daphne might also be very, very angry with him as well. “Me too,” he said carefully, unsure of how to proceed without making a complete arse of himself. “I think we all probably had a few too many trips to the punch bowl.”

Padma gave him another knowing smile and turned to her sister. “I told you it was just the punch,” she said, clearly amused, before Parvati jumped up from her seat and took off for the cafe’s entrance. “Honestly, one kiss and she thinks it means she’s a lesbian!” Padma added, turning back to Draco with a roll of her eyes.

Draco breathed an audible sigh of relief, earning a strange look from Padma. “If it helps any,” he hastily said, “Daphne’s not feeling so great about it either.”

“I suppose we’re all feeling a little regret this morning,” she replied, with a quirk of her brow that raised Draco’s hackles again. “We all do things we probably shouldn’t when we’ve been drinking.”

He bristled slightly at the comment, until he noticed Padma’s chin-length bob and realized it couldn’t possibly have been her. “Don’t I know it. Nice seeing you, Patil.” If only he could really remember the color. “I wish I had a Pensieve right about now,” he then muttered to himself, turning to walk back over to Blaise.

“Would I lie to you?” Blaise asked Mandy, as the girl giggled. Draco just felt nauseated by the display. “I promise, you’re as beautiful out here as you are in the dark.”

“Blaise, you’re too much,” she drawled, letting her fingers linger at the waistband of his trousers. “You’re going to be trouble, I can tell.”

“You have no idea,” Draco interrupted, gripping Blaise by the shoulder. “Can we please just go back to the Hog’s Head? I’m getting the vibe that all you wanted to do was come here and flirt with--”

“Draco, why don’t you stop being so rude and go chat with Padma again. She was really enjoying your company,” Blaise interrupted in return, never taking his eyes off of Mandy.

“Yeah, Draco,” Mandy then said, looking daggers at him, “I should think you two would have loads to talk about.”

“Yes, Draco,” Blaise echoed, finally turning and giving him a significant look, “ _loads_.”

Considering for the first time that the dream girl’s hair might have been shorter than he thought, Draco turned quickly and walked back over to take Parvati’s vacant seat at Padma’s side. “Well, apparently the love birds aren’t done,” he said by way of greeting, as he struggled to keep himself under control. After all, it really wasn’t all that big a deal, right? So what if he’d had sex for the first time in his life with Padma Patil? He certainly could have done a much worse.

Padma gave him a small smile. “We tried to warn her, but she’s been crushing on Blaise for years now.”

“Warn her about what?” he asked, knowing full well what.

“His reputation isn’t exactly that of a perfect gentleman, now is it?” she asked, her eyes twinkling merrily. “In fact, most of you Slytherins have that whole ‘bad boy, sex god’ thing going for you.”

“Do we?” Draco asked lightly, hoping not to betray anything. “I don’t suppose you can believe everything you hear.”

“No, but we’re all quite aware that with Blaise, it’s all true. Frankly, I’m shocked Mandy’s the only one he shagged last night.” At the look on Draco’s face, Padma flushed lightly. “No offense meant or anything, I know he’s your friend.”

“He might be my friend, but he’s still a complete berk,” Draco replied, a smirk coming unbidden to his lips. Padma let out a surprised laugh, which Draco couldn’t help but return. He turned to her then, his smirk melting into a more genuine smile. “Did you have a good time last night?” he asked.

“I did, actually - I didn’t have much to drink or anything, but it was still fun. I got to watch all my friends make idiots of themselves, which is always a fun,” she replied, giggling a little. “I didn’t know Daphne was interested in women, by the way.”

“She tries to keep it pretty close to the chest, but it always manages to come out when she’s pissed,” he answered.

“It’s too bad she’s taken a liking to Parvati,” she replied, and Draco caught the wistfulness in her tone.

“You … I mean, you’re...”

“Don’t tell. I like to keep it pretty close to the chest, as well,” Padma replied, coloring prettily.

Draco smiled, trying not to imagine Padma and Daphne entwined together and focus on the fact that the girl had all but confirmed that they hadn’t done anything together. A jolt of annoyance ran through him at that, realizing that Blaise just wanted to flirt some more with Mandy. If Padma didn’t actually know anything, then what the hell was the point in dragging him over here?

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just--” he sighed, frustrated, before continuing, “--still trying to piece some things together,” he finished, honestly. Draco was beginning to wonder if he had any hope at all in figuring things out, or if he was just doomed to have his first be lost to the annals of history.

“Oh, one of _those_ nights,” Padma replied.

Draco’s eyes flicked to her. “You know it.”

“For what it’s worth, you certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself. I never would have imagined you were so funny!” Padma said, smiling again. “You had Susan and I in stitches with that impression of Minister Shacklebolt.”

“Did I?” Draco replied, not recalling that he’d ever done such an impression before. “I guess I like to be the center of attention when I’m pissed.”

“Well, it was just the three of us, but I suppose that’s still you being the center,” she replied thoughtfully. She laughed then again, recalling. “Maybe you were actually trying to do an impression of Blaise. You looked exactly like him, pawing all over Susan. I swear, I thought she was going to strip down right in the middle of the room when you were nattering on about her eyes. You’re a real charmer when you’ve had a few.”

Draco stiffened. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied, as casually as he could. Could it have been Susan, or was Padma just exaggerating? Draco really was going to kill Blaise when he got the chance.

“Truly, you had her melting before you two went to join the Spin the Bottle game and left me to fend for myself with a bunch of drunk idiots,” Padma replied, though she laughed, so Draco assumed she wasn’t all that upset about it. “Very charming indeed. Shockingly, really.”

“I can be very charming even when I’m not pissed,” he insisted, though a smile cut through the intended disdain of the statement. But could it really have been Susan Bones? Did she have long hair? Was she really melting last night? His thoughts ran along in his head, and Draco decided that he very much needed to find Susan immediately.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Padma replied cheekily, causing Draco to startle out of his reverie with a laugh of surprise. “Because you’re about as charming as a corpse right now.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, eyes darting towards the door. “I’ve just got a bit on my mind right now. I promise to show you exactly how charming I am in the very near future, but for now, I’ve got to run.”

Padma smirked knowingly. “Good luck, loverboy.”

Flushing bright red, as he realized she knew exactly what was going on and what she was doing to him, Draco just nodded and left the cafe, intent upon finding Susan Bones and getting to the bottom of it all.

\--- --- ---

“I hate absolutely everything about today,” Draco muttered to himself. He knew he looked completely mad, but he didn’t care anymore.

With his hangover abating somewhat finally, he wound his way through Hogsmeade in search of Susan Bones. He popped back into the Hog’s Head only to find that the rest of Slytherin House had vacated sometime during his chat with Padma Patil. One of the other patrons had been able to tell him the girls had gone left out the door. He managed to stumble across Theo and Tracey having a very loud argument that he would have stayed to enjoy had he not been so adamant about following up on Padma’s lead. Tracey had paused long enough to tell him that Pansy and Daphne had gone to the bookshop, where he caught a lucky break and found Ernie MacMillan boring to tears a 7th year Hufflepuff he didn’t recognize with something having to do with the Ministry.

“MacMillan!” he interrupted, striding with ardent purpose over to the conversing pair. “Where’s Susan?” Looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else in the world at the moment, Ernie glanced furtively toward the door. “Oh, relax,” Draco continued, irritated, “I’m not planning to hex you, I just need to know where Susan is.”

“Are you going to hex her?” Ernie asked skeptically, as he folded his arms across his chest, still glancing warily towards the door, as if expecting her to walk in at any moment.

“No, I just need to find her,” he insisted, even more irritated now. “Do you know where she might be?”

“Why?”

Momentarily startled, Draco frowned. “Why, what?”

“Why do you need to see her?” Ernie asked pompously, drawing himself up to his height. As Draco still towered a whole head over him, the effect was minimal.

“I just do. Can you,” he sighed, “ _please_ just tell me if you know where she might be?”

“I’m not telling you unless you tell me why you need to see her.”

An ugly sneer crossed Ernie’s features, and Draco suddenly found himself concerned about Ernie’s relationship to Susan. He certainly did not want to deal with any spurned lovers or, worse, current boyfriends. It was growing rapidly more important that he get to the bottom of the mystery of his first time. Choosing his words carefully, Draco tried to appear as calm as possible. “She left something at the party last night, and I wanted to return it to her.” It wasn’t a total lie - she might very well have left her knickers...

“Oh, well, you can just give it to me then. I’ll be sure she gets it,” Ernie replied, extending his hand.

“I’d rather give it to her myself, if that’s all right,” Draco replied, trying not to panic.

“What’s so important--”

“For fuck’s sake, Ernie!” cried the 7th year at his side. “I think she was with Hannah and Justin. They said something about going for ice cream a bit ago, so you might try there, Malfoy.”

A grin spread over Draco’s lips, which elicited a wince from Ernie. “Thank you, Hufflepuff girl. MacMillan? Sod right the hell off,” he said gleefully, as he turned and left the bookshop. At the very least, he could find out if anyone had seen the Hufflepuff Trio, if they weren’t still at the ice cream parlor.

The shop wasn’t that far down the lane, and Draco struggled not to run. After all, he had dignity to maintain, and he wasn’t about to let himself get too excited. What if it was all nothing? What if he’d completely made it up in his own drunken head? No, it was better to just relax and see if he could possibly get some information from Susan before moving on to wherever the investigation led him next. If only his heart would stop pounding faster than it should.

When he spotted a threesome looking as worse for wear as he and his fellow Slytherins had that morning, he knew he was in luck. “Er, hi there,” he then said, as he walked up to the table, inwardly cringing at how pathetic it had sounded. He realized that he had forgotten to think of a legitimate reason to talk to a group of Hufflepuffs with whom he rarely associated.

“Malfoy?” said Justin, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Draco wondered if he’d ever really gotten over that whole ‘Petrifying’ thing. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to … Susan,” he said quietly, knowing just exactly how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“What about?” she then asked, and Draco took a moment to really look at her. Her hair was pulled back in a plait, and he couldn’t tell how long it was, but maybe that didn’t mean anything at all and he was just grasping at straws. She didn’t _look_ like she’d been shagged by him last night, but then again, he had absolutely no idea how a girl was supposed to look after having been shagged by him, having never done so before. She also didn’t look particularly nervous or afraid of him, which could have meant any number of things. “Draco?” she prodded, an eyebrow raised curiously.

Draco realized that he’d been silent for some time and flushed lightly. “It’s sort of … personal?”

“Oh,” she said simply, glancing down at her sundae, which Draco couldn’t read into, before she glanced back up and gave him a half-smile even more unreadable. “Should we go for a walk or something?”

Wondering briefly at the implications of being seen walking down the street with her, Draco hedged a little, before deciding that if he was going to find out one way or the other, he might as well just steal a little Gryffindor courage and go for it. “Sure, that works,” he said, keeping his tone as casual as he could.

“Hang on, Suzie, I’ll come with you,” said Justin, as the girl made to get up from her seat.

“No, it’s fine. You two stay and finish. I’ll find you later,” she replied quickly, saving Draco from the panic that threatened at the idea of having to be forthcoming about sex in front of other people. He didn’t, however, miss the look that passed amongst the three of them and quickly became concerned that Justin and Susan’s relationship might have been more than friends. He sincerely hoped not.

Draco held the door open for her, remembering that he was supposed to be a gentleman that had manners, and then the pair started up the street, heading towards a less crowded part of town. “So,” he said, after a few moments of deeply uncomfortable silence, “did you have fun last night?”

“It was … interesting, to say the least,” she replied, softly. “I had a blistering headache this morning and can’t imagine I was the only one.”

“We’re all blaming Pansy,” he replied honestly, a small smirk on his lips. “She’s the one who spiked everything.”

Susan laughed at that. “Well, she did a smashing job of it. Give her my compliments and my grievances,” she joked, giving him the same half-smile that he couldn’t for the life of him figure out meant what.

They lapsed into silence again, as Draco tried to figure out how to bring it up without being completely obvious. After all, he didn’t want to admit to anything until he had substantial proof. The problem was that the proof wasn’t going to come unless he just asked her. Not for the first time did he wish he had any kind of experience with this type of thing. It felt odd, envying Blaise his rapport with girls, even if that rapport was sleazy. Anything would have been better than the discomfort he felt just trying to come up with something to say.

“So, what _did_ you want to talk to me about?” Susan then asked, as if reading his mind. “I mean, as nice as this awkward silence is and all...” 

Her teasing laugh made him bristle, but he couldn’t exactly blame her for mentioning it. It was making him feel awkward too. Still, Draco didn’t know how he was supposed to bring it up without just blatantly asking her if they’d spent the night together, and he certainly had no intention of doing so. He briefly wondered where all the alleged Slytherin cunning had disappeared to because he couldn’t find it within himself at the moment. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and he couldn’t be sure if it was the remnant of his hangover or nerves.

“I wanted to ask you about the party,” he finally said. It was honest enough.

“What about it?”

“Did you all have a good time?”

She looked confused briefly, her brow furrowing beneath her fringe. “All of us?”

“You Hufflepuffs, I mean,” he said, somewhat dismissively. Somehow his nerves dissipated somewhat, as he affected a more haughty demeanor. It was comforting to fall back on old habits, even if those habits weren’t exactly the best. “If we have another party, I wanted to know if you all would be interested in attending or wouldn’t want to be included.”

“Oh, right, of course. Yes, I think we all had a fun time, and we’d like to do it again, if you wanted to include us,” she replied, glancing briefly at him, before facing ahead again. “Maybe less alcohol next time.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Because I think we all make really stupid decisions when we’re that pissed,” she replied, a slight edge in her tone that he hadn’t noticed before. It sounded very odd coming from a Hufflepuff, and Draco wondered if he might have stumbled onto something.

Trying not to sound too excited, he asked, “Did you?”

As quickly as it had appeared, the tone disappeared, and Susan just smiled blandly at him. “I managed to escape unscathed this time, but I definitely can’t say the same for everybody. Do you remember that Spin the Bottle game? I haven’t been able to get him to admit it yet, but Justin almost definitely took Tony Goldstein back to his dorm after their little snogfest.”

Irritated, Draco narrowed his eyes, glaring at her. He didn’t care about Justin Finch-Fletchley’s blossoming homosexuality. He only cared about one thing, and it was do or die time. “What about you?” he asked pointedly, stopping them by stepping in front and turning to face her. “Did you sneak up to anyone’s dorm last night?”

“Nope, not this time anyway,” she replied easily, giving him the same bland smile. “I snogged Terry Boot and Tracey Davis each once, and then after Justin disappeared, the rest of us went back to our common room.” She laughed again, the sound absolutely grating on his nerves. “I had no idea you were such a gossip, Malfoy. Did you sneak off with anyone?”

“None of your business,” he replied. “I’ll be sure to tell Pansy that you’re all invited again next time.” And with that, having wasted precious time on a dead end, he stormed off, leaving her behind, and decided that he was absolutely going to kill Blaise Zabini … and maybe Padma Patil for good measure.

\--- --- ---

“Slow down! You’re walking too fast!” A pair of younger students pushed past Draco, but he was almost too exhausted to notice.

By the time he’d tracked down Blaise, the latter had been well into a good snog with Mandy and hadn’t had the inclination to help him figure out his next move. Tracey and Theo had apparently made up because they were cuddling disgustingly at Madam Puddifoot’s, and he didn’t dare try asking Pansy or Daphne about his little problem, for fear of jealous yelling and major taunting, respectively. He tried to find Padma, as she’d at least had some information for him before, but he didn’t succeed. He had even sought out Anthony Goldstein, who barely managed to get through a sentence without blushing, only to find that Anthony could only confirm that he’d gone off with Justin and nothing else.

It was, therefore, a lonely and defeated return, with the sun hovering low on the western horizon, and Draco trudged along feeling completely disappointed. The only other idea he had was to return to his room to get the pink knickers, his only real clue, and start asking every girl he came into contact with if she was missing a pair, like some sort of demented Prince Charming.

“Draco Malfoy,” called a voice from behind him.

He almost kept going, having decided that he just didn’t care anymore and certainly didn’t want to talk to anyone, but when the voice called out again, he sighed and remained in his place. “Can I help you?”

“I suppose you could, but I don’t really need any help at the moment,” said Luna, as she caught up to him.

Draco smiled in spite of himself. Luna had become quite a good friend to him over the last year, having easily forgiven him for the horrors she’d seen in the Manor. Whether he would ever admit it aloud or not, it felt nice to have someone be able to look at him and not immediately feel like they were remembering and judging him for all the terrible things he’d done in the past. “I didn’t realize it was you,” he replied. “I’ve been having an absolutely rotten day.”

“After all that happened last night, I had a feeling you might,” she said mildly, and he fell into step with her to finish the walk to the castle. “You seemed quite well into your cups.”

“I didn’t realize you’d actually come to the Salon,” he replied, surprised and slightly embarrassed, considering that he knew he’d been the one to invite her in the first place.

“Oh yes, and I had such a lovely time.” She gave a small, serene smile. “I had such a nice conversation with Terry Boot about Nargles.”

“Had another infestation recent--” Draco cut himself off, suddenly registering that she knew he was drunk the night before. And if she knew that he was drunk the night before without him even having spoken to her, then perhaps she knew a lot more about what had happened. It might have been a long shot, but it was all he had left. “Sorry, but did we talk last night?”

“No, you were a bit busy with the others, but that’s quite alright. Like I said, I had a lovely time talking to some other people. Neville promised to show me the new plants he’s been working with lately.” She twirled her banana-shaped earring idly, before turning to him as they walked. “He promised you as well, remember? Neville told me that you seemed very interested in Herbology, after you two talked.”

Caught between delight that Luna knew that and horror that he’d promised Longbottom to go and look at his bloody plants, Draco stopped for a moment. They had reached a grassy knoll near the lake. “Come and sit with me,” he then said suddenly. “I don’t really feel like going in just yet.” He slipped off his robes and set them down on the grass, quickly rolling down his sleeves and taking a seat in the middle of the erstwhile blanket.

“You don’t have to be so worried about that, you know,” she said, as she took a spot next to him, tucking her feet up under herself. “It doesn’t bother me to see it.”

“Bothers me,” he replied quietly. “I don’t like being reminded of what a cock-up I’ve been.”

“You’re not a cock-up for making a bad choice. We all make bad choices sometimes, but then we learn from them and make better ones the next time,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his and giving him a small, knowing smile.

Draco smiled back, never able to help himself when it came to her. In that moment, a part of him wished that it had been Luna and he the night before, if only for the sense of comfort it might have brought. Though he wasn’t attracted to her, he at least liked her a great deal. He was still left with the conundrum that the girl could have been literally anyone - someone he hated, someone who hated him, someone he didn’t even know. His smile faded again. “I don’t suppose you could start following me around and letting me know when I’m about to make a bad choice, could you?”

“I imagine that would get very irritating after a bit,” she replied.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “It’d be nice not to feel like a complete fool.”

She eyed him shrewdly, and Draco suddenly felt very exposed. Luna had that way about her, and while he appreciated it sometimes, at the moment he wasn’t sure he wanted her reading his innermost soul. “You’re not a fool,” she then said, with a sharp nod. “In fact, you could have done much worse.”

“Does it get much worse than what I did?” He scoffed then. “Alright, well at least I didn’t _succeed_ in killing anyone.”

“No, no,” she said, swatting at his hand, “I meant about yesterday. You could have done much worse, but you didn’t. You were very nice, and you were friendly with the others, and you made sure that everyone was happy and having fun.”

A smile tugged at his lips, but he remained quiet. It certainly didn’t sound like him to be such a charming and pleasant host, but he believed it coming from Luna. She had no reason to lie and wasn’t really the type to spare someone’s feelings because she pitied them. He appreciated it more than he could adequately express.

“So why do you feel like a fool?” Luna continued.

Draco didn’t answer right away, trying to pull his thoughts together. His head was a mess of confusion, and quite honestly, he didn’t know why for what reason he felt the most foolish. It obviously didn’t matter all that much in the long run. His first didn’t have to be all that special. It wasn’t like she was going to be his wife. After all, she hadn’t exactly sought him out either. Maybe she just wanted to forget it too. Maybe it didn’t matter to her at all.

“I feel like a fool,” he then said, voice wavering only slightly as he tried to keep control, “because I’ve been running around all day trying to find someone who probably doesn’t even exist.”

“Oh, that’s nothing!” Luna replied cheerfully, startling him a little. “People say that of me all the time, and I don’t feel foolish.”

“That’s not all,” he continued quickly, trying not to think about people saying such horrid things about his friend. “I mean, well, I’m certain she exists, but there’s circumstances that … “ Frustrated by his inability to just say what he meant, he trailed off, staring out over the lake. He took a deep breath in and out and decided that he just needed to say the words out loud. Maybe Luna would have an answer for him, and maybe she wouldn’t, but he just needed to try and say it, pride be damned. While courage had never been his strongest suit, it was time to finally be a little bit brave. “Luna, I had sex last night with a girl, and I have no idea who it was, and I feel completely terrible about it.” His eyes remained steadfastly on the lake, not daring to see what he knew would be disappointment in her eyes.

Silence stretched between them, and Draco grew more apprehensive by the second. He both wanted and didn’t want her to say something, afraid of what it might be, but desperate for some advice or comfort.

“Do you think you made a mistake?” she then asked finally, sounding as normal as she always did.

“I, well, yes, obviously,” he spluttered, turning to look at her. “You don’t just do that with a person and then completely forget about who they are like you don’t care.” Flushing slightly, he thought about what Blaise would have to say about his pathetic attitude. Then, angrily, he dismissed the thought - because Blaise was a pig when it came to women, and Draco refused to be that type of man. “I just wish I could figure out who it was so I can talk to her. I think that’s really all I want.”

“Why is it so important?” Luna questioned, something unreadable in her expression that made him more than a little nervous. “Why is this one so different from the others?”

“There aren’t any others!” Horrified, Draco clapped a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually admitted it aloud, let alone to Luna. He knew he was likely bright red with embarrassment and decided that he might as well just call it a day because things couldn’t possibly get much worse.

Luna sighed softly and reached out to take his hand, surprising him. “I can help you find her.”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Draco laughed humorlessly. “What do you think I’ve been doing all day? Nobody knows who I left the party with, or if they do, they certainly aren’t sharing.”

“Aren’t sharing?”

“Yes,” he replied, shrugging again. “I think I should just give up and pretend it never happened. She certainly seems to have done.” The bitterness in his words choked him, and he clamped his mouth shut against the strange emotion that suddenly swelled.

“Now, why do you say that if you haven’t any idea who she is?” Luna replied knowingly.

“Because wouldn’t she have tried to find me as well?” He frowned, disheartened further. Honestly, why was it so important? Why did he have to care so much about it?

“What if she’s feeling exactly as you are though? What if she can’t remember who it was either?”

Draco paused, not having considered that. He dismissed it easily though, recalling the position he’d found himself in that morning. “Because she had to wake up at some point and leave my room. She knew it was me - unless she’s blind or something.” He exhaled sharply, angrily. “I should just give up. She obviously wants to forget, and I’m in no position to make her remember last night if she doesn’t want to remember.”

Luna patted his hand, a gesture that made him smile a little in spite of himself. “I wish I could help you.”

“Me too,” he replied wistfully, looking back out over the lake, as the sun continued to set.

She remained at his side quietly for a few more minutes, before she reached for her discarded shoes and set to putting them back on. “Come on, let’s go eat. I think it’s roast beef sandwiches for supper tonight.”

“Unsurprisingly, I’m not all that hungry,” he replied. “Go on, I’ll catch up to you later. You can tell me about the Nargle problem again.”

“It’s an epidemic,” she replied seriously, and he smiled back at her, watching fondly as she walked towards the castle doors. He then laid down on his cloak, arranging himself as neatly and comfortably as possible. He didn’t really want to be alone and think, but he didn’t want to face any of his friends either. He just wished that he could close his eyes and forget that any of it had happened at all. Last night was obviously just a mistake.

He lay quietly for some time, and it grew dark. The sounds of the Forest nearly made him stir from his spot and head for the castle, but something kept him at the lakeside. With his eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even, he might even have dozed for a bit, but mostly he replayed the dream/not-dream over and over again, trying not to search desperately for some detail he had missed.

“This is useless,” he said quietly.

“What is?”

Rapidly sitting up, Draco turned to the voice that had come up and interrupted him. His eyes went wide. “What do you want?”

“Luna sent me,” she said, with a soft shrug. Her long dark-brown hair was loose and fluttered in the slight breeze of the night.

Draco watched her for a moment, and he knew.

\--- --- ---

“You lied to me,” he accused, almost immediately wishing he could take it back. His opening line should have been more elegant, more charming, more anything other than what it was.

“I’m sorry,” Susan said, sounding not at all sorry, as she slipped off her flats and joined him on the cloak. She sat down at his side, carefully and obviously not touching him.

Neither spoke for a long moment, and Draco found that he wasn’t nearly as anxious as he thought he should have been. At the very least, he knew who he was dealing with now, and despite that she had blatantly lied to his face, a part of him didn’t exactly blame her. He hadn’t been all that charming and pleasant when he’d spoken to her earlier. 

Finally, he sighed gently and rearranged himself so that he was sat lower, resting on his elbows with his legs crossed at the ankle. Susan didn’t move from her defensive position, but he didn’t exactly blame her for that either. “Why did you come out here?” he asked, glancing at her and hoping that he didn’t sound like a complete fool.

“I told you, Luna sent me,” she replied coolly.

“Right, but why did you come?”

Susan sighed softly, loosening her grip on her legs ever-so-slightly. “It’s pretty impossible to say ‘no’ to Luna Lovegood. She’s entirely too good a person.”

Draco reminded himself to thank Luna later. “So, if I ask you why you lied, will you bite my head off?” he asked, after a pause.

“No, I won’t.” She looked out over the lake, as he had done earlier. It was becoming too dark to tell properly, but Draco got the feeling she was blushing. “I really am sorry that I lied to you. You don’t deserve to be lied to just because I feel like a complete fool.”

Resisting the urge to tell her she wasn’t the only one, Draco just watched her. The silence that stretched between them again was oddly comfortable. Though he wanted answers, he didn’t feel in a rush to get them because it seemed that they were on the same page, both feeling foolish. It bolstered him, in a way.

“I was embarrassed,” she finally said, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. “I don’t … well, I don’t normally do things like that.”

“Like what?” he prodded.

Susan sunk down then, mirroring Draco’s posture, her arm brushing against him and making him suck in a breath, as she settled herself. “Like throwing myself at a boy I barely know and waking up in his bed the next morning?” Her tone was light, but Draco could hear the discomfort. Still, he resisted the urge to push much further. Where the sense of decency had come from, he certainly didn’t know, but it appeared to be working. She glanced at him side-long, her expression anxious. “I’m sure it’s just another day, another shag for you, but I really don’t do the whole one-off thing.”

Draco bristled at the implication. It didn’t matter that it was the reputation he’d cultivated for himself over the years; for whatever reason it just seemed stupid now, and he hated the idea of her thinking that he’d used her for a one-off.

“I mean, not that it’s such a horrible thing,” she continued, before he could tell her off, “if that’s what you like to do. It’s just not--” Susan cut herself off abruptly, biting down on her lower lip.

“It’s just not, what?” he asked, tone more intense than he’d meant.

“Nothing, forget it. Look, now you know it was me, and again I’m sorry I didn’t just say it earlier, but it’s done, alright?” she said quickly and sat up further, clearly intending to leave it there.

“No,” he said firmly, unsure of where his confidence had suddenly come from, but definitely grateful for its late appearance. “‘It’s just not’, what Susan?” He reached out, tentatively at first, but then with more assertiveness and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She was flushed, and he was surprised, though he supposed it was from anger or embarrassment or any number of things. He tugged her back down, glad when she didn’t resist. She wouldn’t not look him in the eye, though. “Just say it.”

“It’s not how I wanted my first time to be,” she said, tone steely. “I didn’t want to be just some notch in your stupid bedpost. It was supposed to be me and someone I loved and who loved me back, not some drunken mess of a thing that neither of us can fully remember.”

She shivered lightly then, and he moved closer, letting their arms rest against each other. Her hair fluttered in the evening breeze, blowing several strands up against his face. A memory stirred, and now it was him who shivered. “I’m sorry it wasn’t perfect,” he replied evenly, uncertain of what he could possibly say or if he even wanted to say anything. Could he admit the truth to her now, knowing what he knew?

“Is it ever perfect?” she asked, finally turning to him. Her eyes were a funny color, he decided, some kind of greenish brown that couldn’t make up its mind. He wondered how he could have missed that the night before.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Blaise always said he was having perfect sex, but Draco was beginning to absolutely despise Blaise Zabini and decided that his opinion of things meant absolutely nothing.

Susan laughed humorlessly, a maddening half-smile settling on her lips. “Come on now, with all the shags you’ve had? You’re bound to know,” she replied.

Draco sat up straight then and leaned over her a little, resting a hand on the ground on either side of her body. Susan didn’t shrink back, but merely looked up at him, eyes locked on his own. He wanted to look away, his sense of self-preservation fighting furiously to just cut and run before he was in too deep, but some deep-seated Gryffindorish courage that he knew he might never find again rooted him to the spot. “No, Susan Bones, I don’t know. And do you want to know why that is?” He quirked an eyebrow, daring her, as a thrill ran through him.

Her tongue snaked out of her mouth and wet her lips. For a brief moment, Draco deliriously wondered if he’d fallen asleep and was just dreaming this, until she spoke, her voice low in a way that went straight to his groin. “Tell me.”

Draco swallowed thickly, eyes trailing over her face and falling to her lips again. “Because there wasn’t anyone before you,” he admitted, voice wavering only slightly at the secret he’d kept for years. “You were the first.”

Whatever charge was between them dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Susan thrust out a hand and pushed gently at his chest until he was forced to sit back at her side like before. She sat up fully and regained her defensive posture, back rigid and eyes firmly on the lake. “It’s really very unfair of you to lie to me,” she said, tone edged with disappointment.

Gutted for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself, Draco abandoned all sense of decorum and laid down flat on the ground, pillowing his hands behind his head. “I’m not lying,” he insisted, almost petulantly.

“Really, Draco, you don’t have to say that just to try and make me feel better about what happened between us,” she said, witheringly. Where the attitude came from, he didn’t know, but then he supposed he barely knew her at all. They might have attended school together since they were eleven, but he couldn’t remember having much of a conversation with her before. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were essentially polar opposites.

“When have you ever known me to attempt to make other people feel better about themselves?” he then asked, intending it meanly but sounding sadly sincere.

She fell silent again, and Draco wondered if he might as well just completely give up on her and pretend it never happened. It might have been much better in the first place if he’d just went along with the idea that it was a dream. He closed his eyes, letting the cool night air drift over him and deciding that he absolutely would just let it become a dream. After all, no matter how girly it might have sounded to anyone else, he, too, had wanted his first time to be a memorable experience with someone he loved. Maybe he and Susan had equally denied each other that experience, but they could certainly agree to just let it drift away into nothing as well.

He felt a rustling at his side, and to his shock when he opened his eyes, he found that Susan had laid down next to him. She wasn’t too close, but she had mirrored his position with her hands behind her head and her elbow brushed against his. She said nothing, and he didn’t dare break the silence first. He wished he had a manual on how to proceed and wondered, not for the first time, if his friends had experienced anything even remotely like this when they’d had their first times.

“Do you remember back in third year when we had double Transfig with you?” she asked.

“I do,” he replied, warily.

“Remember when we had to transfigure the teacups into tortoises?”

He could hear the smile in her voice and it comforted him more than he wanted to admit. “I remember failing utterly at it, even though I had been decent in the class up until then.” He scoffed, recalling the way his turtle was china-patterned for nearly a half-hour, no matter what he tried to do to fix it. But suddenly his eyes shot open, the memory returning easily. Draco got up onto his elbow, looking down at her. “I gave you my turtle.”

She nodded, glancing up at him with that same half-smile on her lips. It made her lips look particularly enticing and Draco had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss them. “I remember thinking it was about the nicest thing anyone had ever done. I had a pretty massive crush on you after that,” she admitted quietly.

Draco couldn’t help but smile. “I was such a little shit back then. It was probably all part of my grand plan to make everyone hate Potter.” He laughed and rolled his eyes at the memory. “It’s amazing how much things can change, isn’t it? I certainly don’t hate Potter anymore, and I imagine you lost that crush on me fairly easily considering all I’ve done since.” He frowned then, lapsing into thought about how true his words really were. So much had changed over the years. It was a wonder to him, honestly, that anyone wanted to talk to him at all. “We were all so bloody stupid as kids,” he added, quietly.

“That’s part of being a kid,” she replied. “You make stupid mistakes and act like a brat, and then you learn from them, grow up, and try really hard not to make stupid mistakes anymore.”

He heard the wistfulness in her tone, and his brow furrowed. The more he thought about it, the less it started to feel like they had made a stupid mistake. It certainly hadn’t been the ideal situation, but that didn’t mean it had to be a mistake, did it?

With his free hand, he reached out then and carefully let it slide into her hair, and when she didn’t flinch away, he grew bolder and let his fingers trail lightly along her jawline. He felt a little awkward, not having any experience in this - that he could remember, anyway - but she didn’t seem to mind. 

“I don’t think it was a stupid mistake,” he said, putting voice to it. It felt honest, and for whatever reason it seemed he was beyond trying to save face. Draco just wanted to feel good about what had happened between them. “I don’t even...” he faltered briefly, but soldiered on, “I don’t even think it was a mistake at all.”

“Now I know you’re lying about that one,” she said, though her tone was fond, and she smiled up at him. “Didn’t you want it to be with someone else? Pansy, maybe?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe a long time ago, but ever since she gave it up to Blaise, she lost her appeal.” Snorting an inelegant laugh, Draco let his fingers trail up into her hair again. “That’s been a bit of a problem all around, to be honest.”

Susan let out a soft, contented sigh and then her eyes fluttered closed, surprising him. “You did this last night,” she murmured. “Played with my hair like this. It feels nice.”

“I always thought I could be good at this,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I just wish I could remember exactly what I did.”

“Maybe I could remind you.” Susan spoke so softly that at first Draco thought he had just imagined the words. She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought or perhaps hoped she meant. But when she opened her eyes, a wicked, almost wanton look was present, and he felt himself beginning to grow very interested in hearing more. “I mean, we might be able to piece it all together, don’t you think?”

The recently-awakened part of him that wanted to be a perfect gentleman also wanted to politely decline, but a much lower and far more interested part of him perked up at the thought that she might actually want to do it again. “We really don’t have to,” he said, hating himself. His fingers never left her hair, though, belying his words.

“I know we don’t have to, but what if we want to?” she asked, pushing up on her elbows to inch closer to his face. Unconsciously, Draco leaned in a little as well. “I just think that since we both really wanted our first times to be memorable, we should do our best to _remember_.”

Draco couldn’t deny that at least from a logical standpoint it made perfect sense. But then she pushed up further, her lips ghosting against his in a tantalizing promise of a kiss, and absolutely nothing made sense anymore.

The dam broke. Draco crushed his lips to hers, pouring every ounce of frustration and annoyance with the way his day had unfolded into a bruising kiss. He then let it subside until the kiss was no longer just from frustration, but from desire. He didn’t notice exactly when he’d settled on top of her, but it didn’t matter because her arms were wrapped around his back and one foot slithered up to press against his calf, keeping him locked there between her legs.

He pulled back only slightly, feeling the mad urge to say something. “Do you think we should go back to the castle?”

Susan laughed. “Do you really want to walk back through the castle, through your common room and to your room in this state?” She rolled her hips against him, and he realized that going back was definitely not an option at the moment. “I didn’t think so.”

He kissed her again, languidly. “I remember this,” he mumbled against her lips. “Only it was just after that stupid game, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm. The bottle looked like it was going to land on you, but it landed on Tracey instead. After I kissed her, you told me that you were jealous of her,” she replied, before tilting her head and beginning a soft trail of kisses along his neck. “I had no idea you were so charming. What a line you fed me.”

“I’m extremely charming, thank you very much,” he protested, sucking in a breath as she nipped at his neck. “And it wasn’t a line - I really was jealous.” Draco wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over and let his hands slide down her sides to rest on her bum. “Tracey looked like she was having all the fun.”

“You can have as much fun with me as you like,” Susan replied, and even in the dark, he could see the flush in her cheeks. She seemed unused to being _sexy_ , but that was quite alright with him. It just made him feel all the more desirous for her, knowing that her actions and demeanor were all for him.

She sat up a little then so that she was straddling him, and Draco was struck by how they’d ended up exactly like they had been in his memory. She seemed to feel it too, and she took his hands, guiding them up her body until he palmed her breasts. “I remember this,” he said, mimicking his dream movements by thumbing her nipples through the thin cotton t-shirt she wore. Her breath came shallowly, and he could feel her nipples pebbling under his ministrations. A fierce sense of pride that he could make her feel so good warred for prominence with the desire he felt for her.

Susan rolled her hips against him, and he groaned, easily growing too hard for the confines of his trousers to be comfortable. “I remember _this_ ,” she said in a low voice, before rolling her hips again. “Should we do--”

“--yes, absolutely yes, please,” he interrupted, sliding his hands down to grip her hips.

Susan giggled. “Well, then let me a go a second,” she teased, standing up just long enough to slip out of her knickers and toss them to his side.

“Remind me to give you back your pink ones later,” he replied, as he fumbled with his belt. His eyes never left her, even though she was all but fully clothed. Somehow it was more erotic, just knowing that she was bare beneath her skirt. If anyone else were to look at her, they would have no idea, but _he_ knew.

He managed to get his belt undone, but then had trouble with his zipper, cursing in frustration at the lack of dexterity in his fingers. Finally, as she straddled his hips once more, he managed to undo everything, practically springing from his pants in anticipation. The nerves came then, as he didn’t have the benefit of alcohol to dull them, but he took comfort in the fact that her look mirrored perfectly how he felt. “What next?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“This, I think,” she replied, before reaching down to tentatively grasp him with her slender fingers. Her hand shook only slightly.

“Yes, this,” he assured her, and his breath hitched as she gave him an experimental stroke. His hands gripped her hips again, but at her hesitation, he reached down to place a hand over hers. “If you don’t want--”

“I want,” she insisted, stroking him again; he bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to quell a groan, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt familiar, but different somehow from the sensation of wanking himself. Actually, it felt brilliant. “Can I? I mean, are you...”

He nodded, afraid to say something stupid and ruin everything. She rose up just enough, ghosting over him. He could feel the heat between them, and his breath came shallow and strained. He wanted her so badly, more than he’d ever wanted anything. It felt like more than he deserved, but he didn’t care to argue with himself at the moment. All he wanted was her, and she was going to give herself to him.

They both sucked in a breath, as she guided him in with her hand. She bit down hard on her lower lip, a wince clear. A sliver of panic flew through him, distracting him from the sensation of being inside her. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, horrified.

“It’s supposed to hurt a little the first time,” she replied. “I’m just still sore, I guess.”

“We can stop--”

“I don’t want to stop, Draco,” she urged, relaxing and sinking down so that he would have to feel it.

Draco moaned, long and low in a way that might have embarrassed him if he had any sense of himself left. It felt exactly as he half-remembered it - like he belonged there. His hands came again to her hips, bolstering her as she began to move.

She rode slowly at first, but as her rhythm steadied, her speed increased and small, breathy moans escaped her lips. For his part, Draco couldn’t believe it was happening or that it could be so unbelievably perfect. It didn’t matter that a rock was digging into his back or his hands were sweating profusely from gripping her so tightly, or even that they were probably ruining his favorite set of robes. All he knew was that Susan made him feel incredible, and he only hoped that she felt the same.

He began to thrust, no longer content to let her do everything. In that moment, he wanted to give her absolutely everything he had. But it wasn’t long before he felt too close. While he didn’t want it to end and break whatever spell had been cast to make everything in the world seem to exist only in the space between them, he felt the desperate urge to tumble over the edge. He didn’t know if he could bring her with him - he only knew that it wouldn’t be long.

With a choked cry, he stilled a bare moment before coming hard, with a sharp thrust upwards. He only vaguely heard her cry out, deafened by the rushing in his ears. Utterly spent, he laid back weakly, hands falling away from her hips. Without the support, Susan all but collapsed on top of him, barely managing to catch herself with hands on either side of him. She rolled off and settled next to him, just far enough away that he had to reach for her to pull her to his side.

Neither spoke, but both breathed deeply, trying to find a steady rhythm. Draco’s heart raced, but his mind was oddly quiet. He felt no urge to think about anything, content to just lay there with her quietly. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever felt this satisfied. When she snaked an arm over his chest and pressed up against him, burying her face in his neck, he sighed deeply. If this was what it was like, Draco honestly had no idea why he had waited so long.

“What now?”

Draco stilled then. His plan had only gone as far as figuring out who he had been with after the Salon. He had no next step, and certainly hadn’t imagined the outcome that had just occurred. “I … I don’t know,” he said honestly, after a long moment. He felt her lips curl into a smile at his neck, and he grinned in the darkness. “How about we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she answered. “When you give me back my knickers.”

Laughing hoarsely, Draco laid his free hand on her head, threading his fingers into her hair. “It’s a date.”

END.


End file.
